


you're the song stuck in my head (every song that i've ever loved)

by hipsterchrist



Series: your favorite record [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Anxiety, Awkwardness, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Boundaries, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Facials, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 08:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14870715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterchrist/pseuds/hipsterchrist
Summary: the thing is: niall is sure of shawn.





	you're the song stuck in my head (every song that i've ever loved)

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm too old for this and I don't even go here.
> 
> (Title from Fall Out Boy's "Favorite Record.")

the thing is: niall is sure of shawn.

niall’s never really been sure of anything except music, if he's honest. he's certainly never been even remotely sure of a person, or love, or dating, or sex, or shit like that. but he's sure of shawn. or, well -- he's sure of how he feels about shawn.

not that he has a lot of experience in this type of thing, but it’s never been like this before, with niall and another person. shawn is...easy. shawn is calm. shawn is secure.

well, alright. shawn is none of those things, by himself. he's awkward and so so nervous all the time and insecure about things he has absolutely no business being insecure about, if he asked niall, which he actually has a few times, while pulling anxiously at his hair and biting his bottom lip, which has gotten increasingly torturous for niall each time. 

_niall_ wants to pull at shawn’s hair. _niall_ wants to bite at shawn’s bottom lip.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” shawn said the last time, running a hand through his hair. “every time i hang out with you i’m just--nervous. i promise i’m not usually like this.”

“i make you nervous, shawn?” niall asked then, grinning, because it was a joke, but he caught a glimpse of the way shawn’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, for just a flash of a moment, before shawn looked down and laughed a little too loudly. niall stared, his own smile frozen on his face as the realization sank in, and after a few seconds he said, “how ‘bout you pick the movie tonight, then?” and shawn bolted up off the couch over to niall’s blu-ray shelf, his back to niall, so he didn't see niall lick his lips or set an intense gaze on his beer bottle or steady his own breathing as the weight of this settled in his chest.

niall’s never been good at sitting with his feelings. he's hyper aware of them at all times - either a side effect of his anxiety, or else one of the reasons for it - but he’s no good at sitting with them. harry and zayn were always great at that, and they each tried to teach niall how to be better, but meditation (harry) and weed (zayn) both gave him panic attacks. sex stuff with them (separately) worked for awhile, but. well. 

harry grew out of fooling around with niall before niall was even totally sure if he liked guys. harry was sure by then, had probably always been sure, and he knew what he liked, and what he liked wasn't niall. it’s not like niall was hurt, really, or is bitter or anything - it was a formative thing, what he did with harry. awkward kisses while niall still had goddamn braces and trading rushed wanks in the showers. it was never a Thing, just a thing, and niall was never foolish enough to think it would become a Thing or that it would last. harry simply moved on, so niall did, too.

and zayn...left. not like, immediately. but eventually. zayn left. it took niall months afterward to knit this all together in his head in a way that made him feel less angry, less abandoned, less worried. he and zayn messed around, got further along than he and harry had, made out even when niall’s mouth was stinging with whiskey and zayn smelled like cigarettes. niall learned what zayn felt like inside him, what zayn felt like inside, and then, later, zayn left. zayn left knowing what niall’s come tasted like and how niall’s fingers felt in his ass. it wasn't the most important thing zayn took with him but it was the thing that made niall feel most nauseated.

ellie and barbara helped, too, niall supposes. separately, again, although-- _hmm_. niall frowns and shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself. everything with harry and everything with zayn had been selfish and short-sighted, just stupid teenage boys getting off together. but barbara taught him consideration, and before her, ellie taught him patience.

god, he shudders to think what about him appealed to ellie especially, when he was so young and fumbling and shy and shaking from nerves and honest to god fucking, like, nearly _virginal_ , when it came to girls, much less _women_. he groans just imagining what a mess he looked like to her, and then he groans again when he realizes: probably exactly what shawn looks like to _him_.

innocent. the kind that niall finds himself, rather uncharacteristically, wanting to ruin.

probably if he called ellie about this she would agree. he can hear her voice now, just casually talking about sex and desire the way he’s never quite been able to master because it requires actual confidence. she would shrug and say, “you were sweet. i wanted to see you not sweet.”

the first time he met shawn, his mouth went dry but he bit his lip so hard with sharp teeth that he drew blood. shawn was so innocent, freshly 18, and thinking about him the way niall thought about him made him feel a surge of old school catholic guilt, made him feel like such a creep, the kind who goes to pornhub and types “barely legal” in the search bar and wanks to vulnerable women who look uncomfortably like one direction’s fans, like shawn’s.

niall tried to forget it, to bury it - he was good at that, even his therapist said so - but then after that night at the AMAs, shawn was there in his DMs just like he was before the show, saying how much fun he had hanging out with niall afterward, saying that they should get together sometime just to chill. niall kept waiting for a “we should give the fans what they want” but it never came. shawn wanted to spend time with him just for the two of them, no obligations, no collaboration, no pressure.

and, okay, so if the DMs got a little flirtatious at some point along the way, before they finally just did what they should’ve done at the start and exchanged numbers, then...well, niall could tell himself that shawn started the whole thing. shawn was the first one sending the winky kiss emojis and telling niall how comfortable he looked on stage these days. niall just responded in kind. he was just being polite, friendly.

the thing is: he’s sure of how he feels about shawn but he's not sure when exactly he started feeling it.

he supposes it doesn't really matter, but it would be nice to know, if only for his own peace of mind. niall likes clean lines, borders, spreadsheets, categories. the reason it took him so long to come to terms with his sexuality was because he didn't know for a long time what label fit him, and nobody around him was any fucking help, because harry scoffed at the need for labels and zayn didn't give a fuck regardless. harry just _is_ , and zayn just _is_ , too, and niall was always envious of the privilege of their ability to just _be_. it took years for niall to fully understand that he can be mostly attracted to guys and only a little bit into women and still be bisexual, that it didn't mean equal parts attraction. he almost texted harry when he got it, when he decided to wear that word, but he got as far as “so,” before backing out. harry would congratulate him but he wouldn't _get it_. and besides, niall doesn't want to bother him.

it used to be overwhelming, that there are so many lives that used to include niall effortlessly in them, make room for him with no trouble, that now he doesn't fit into at all. zayn’s in a completely different world even when they're both in LA, and he doesn't even know where harry is half the time, and liam has a baby with a stupid name that niall can’t make himself care about no matter how hard he tries, and louis is all acid and bitterness and niall can’t blame him. zayn took people with him when he left, even the ones who stayed for the remainder of the tour, and some people belong to harry, even the ones who seemed to be the whole band’s, and niall belongs to no one.

except shawn. shawn makes room for him in his life effortlessly, never makes niall feel like an inconvenience, always makes niall feel welcome, like he belongs there. like niall belongs to shawn. like shawn belongs to niall.

the thing is: he thinks he's sure of how shawn feels about him, too.

the moment of widening eyes was a turning point. niall can't bring himself to feel guilty once he knows shawn feels the same way he does. he lets himself think about it freely, lets himself imagine it. he catches shawn glancing at his mouth one day after hours of video games and carries it with him for weeks, the heat that one glance sparked in his belly. he daydreams about kissing shawn so much that it seeps into his actual dreams and then he wakes up and has to do _something_ about his hard-on, slips his hand into his shorts and imagines it’s shawn’s hand instead.

he doesn't think shawn’s ever done anything like this with a lad, so he figures shawn would just do what he does to himself. niall adjusts his usual efficiency to this, makes it feel clumsy, fumbling a little bit, nervous. he can hear shawn’s voice so clearly even just in his own head, can feel shawn’s warm breath against his jaw if he concentrates enough. shawn would probably be stammering, and blushing because of the stammering; he’d duck his head if niall didn’t hold his own hand along shawn’s jaw and kiss him quiet.

niall would have to be reassuring, a dirtier version of his talk-throughs that calm shawn down every time they see each other. he licks his lips alone in his bed and breathes out, “this is good, shawn, you're doing so good.” he pictures shawn smiling nervously, preening under the praise, blushing red. he comes over his fist with a sharp intake of breath and a groan, curses, and then prays that he’ll last longer when this is a reality, hopes that god is still looking out for him even though he hasn't gone to mass in years, and sends another prayer out to luck, just in case.

“got plenty of that,” he mutters to himself, accent thicker than usual in the wake of his orgasm. shawn will tease him for that. he smiles at the thought and turns his head, hugging the pillow to his face to hide his lovesick giddiness, and immediately regrets it - there's come all over his pillowcase now.

the thing is: being sure isn't enough. he still has to do something about it.

“i resolve to call him up,” niall sings absentmindedly to himself, “a thousand times a day,” but never actually does. he does text, though, types out, “come over next time you're in town. even if i’m not home yet. u got an open invite x” and presses _send_ before his anxiety can stop him.

“of course!! i’ll be there in 2 weeks actually,” shawn replies almost immediately, which makes niall grin. then, a moment later, “you know i’m never ending a text with ‘x,’ right?” and a laughing emoji. niall bites his lip.

“so canadian,” he replies, adding the rolling eyes emoji. “aggressively canadian.”

“canadians aren't aggressively anything,” shawn sends. niall stares for far too long at the winking kiss emoji before sending a string of more eye rolls followed by a single laugh. he tosses his phone to the opposite end of the couch and grabs a throw pillow and smashes his face in it, as the song stuck in his head shifts seamlessly from “every little thing she does is magic” to “u got it bad.”

niall is home when shawn comes over two weeks later. shawn is nervous as ever. he flops down on the couch next to niall and rubs his hands over his face. niall tries not to get distracted by his hands. he fails, but only for a few seconds.

“anything you want to talk about?” he asks, reaching over and tapping a brief rhythm on shawn’s thigh, scratching for a moment at the denim of shawn’s jeans, listening to the drag of it under his short fingernails. shawn drops his hands to his lap and looks at niall, who pulls his own hand back and swallows when he notices shawn glancing down at the place on his leg that niall was just touching.

“i want to,” shawn says, looking back up at niall, biting his lip anxiously. “i just...i don't know how to word it all yet. like, just to talk about it. i can write songs about it, but i can’t...just say it.” he frowns. “that doesn't make any sense. i’m sorry--”

“yeah, it does,” niall says, nodding with his whole body. shawn gives him a dubious look. niall shrugs. “it’s always easier to write and sing about things than speak them, innit? the music is like a shield you can hide behind.” shawn looks down, presses his palm hard over the spot where niall was tapping before.

“yeah,” he says softly. “i think i’m tired of hiding, though. at some point i have to just speak it.”

“doesn't have to be until you're ready,” niall says. shawn nods, looks over at niall out of the corner of his eyes and smiles.

“thanks, niall,” he says. “one day i won't be a total wreck when i see you.” niall smiles, too, and bites his tongue.

“until you're ready,” he says, “i, um, i have my own nervous thing i wanted to talk to you about.”

“oh!” shawn says, completely attentive all at once. “of course, man. you don't have to--i mean, we’re friends, so this thing goes both ways, you know.” niall huffs out a laugh. _that's the hope_ , he thinks.

“yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. he takes a few deep breaths, and looks up to see shawn looking back at him with unsure eyes, his jaw tense. 

niall swallows, holds shawn’s gaze, and says, “the thing is, i fancy you,” just as shawn blurts out, “i like you!”

niall jerks his head back, blinking. shawn’s eyes go wide.

“i’m sorry, i just--you do?” shawn says. niall lifts his legs up, hugs his knees closer to his chest. he feels so happy even with so much still unsaid.

“yes, shawn,” he says, biting his lip and smiling. “i thought i was like, really obvious.” shawn laughs.

“ _you_ were obvious?” he says in disbelief. “you really thought i just _happened_ to be crazy anxious about everything when i came around you?” niall rests his forehead on his knee, trying to hide his grin. he turns back to look at shawn and can't help laughing.

“you don't have to be nervous around me,” he says softly.

“i wrote a song about it,” shawn says, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. niall’s stomach flutters at the sight. “well, i wrote...a few songs. about you. but just the one about being nervous around you.”

“can i hear them?” niall asks. shawn drops his hands, looks at niall with a tiny spark of mischief in his eyes, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“you’ll hear them soon,” he says innocently. “they’re on the new album.” 

“you're really going to make me wait?” niall says, lifting his head and raising his eyebrows. shawn nods wordlessly, biting his lip. niall’s attention shifts entirely to shawn’s mouth.

“maybe,” shawn starts, stops, licks his lips. niall’s breath hitches, but he raises his gaze, meets shawn’s eyes again. there's no embarrassment or tiny spark of anything in them anymore. there’s only darkened focus. niall’s heart thumps hard in his chest in anticipation. “maybe i can make it up to you somehow,” shawn says.

“can i kiss you?” niall blurts out, so quick he thinks there's no way shawn understood him, and he’ll have to repeat it, which will absolutely kill him, but shawn nods emphatically, is reaching for him before he even realizes he's been given permission. they manage to meet in the middle calmly enough, cool and collected until niall sighs into shawn’s mouth with a happy little sound that seems to push shawn into action.

shawn kisses like he’s being liberated. which, maybe, niall thinks, in a way, he is. it would be easy to get lost in it, in the franticness of it, but niall wants to draw this out, make it last as long as it can before they have to talk about, like, what this all _means_ for them and how they want to _move forward_. niall will want that soon, will need clean lines and borders to feel comfortable, but right now he only wants _this_ , for as long as he can have it. he twists closer to shawn, slides his right hand around the back of shawn’s head into shawn’s hair and rests his left against shawn’s neck.

it's not all that different, using his touch and kiss to calm shawn, instead of talking. shawn follows his lead and slows his pace, slows his heart rate. niall licks into shawn’s mouth and drags his teeth lightly over shawn’s chapped bottom lip and is rewarded with a sweet, pleased noise from shawn’s throat. niall doesn't like to brag, but he's _good_ at kissing, at observing with his eyes closed, at making people want more of him. everything beyond kissing is probably, realistically, sort of a mixed bag, in terms of niall’s skill and natural talent, but he can at least get shawn hard, even if they don't go any further right now.

niall shifts his body to push his knee against the couch and turn toward shawn until he's sort of on his knees in shawn’s lap, one leg between shawn’s. he's taller than shawn this way, if he doesn't slouch, and he suddenly understands why the girls he's been with like this particular stance so much. curving his neck down so he never has to break the kiss, his hands in shawn’s hair, and shawn beneath him, having to throw his head back to keep kissing niall - it makes niall feel powerful, somehow, makes him feel like shawn is all his.

shawn’s hands move from niall’s shoulders down his sides until he slips them under niall’s shirt, settles them on the bare skin on niall’s lower back, just above the waistband of his jeans. niall gasps and shawn grins against his mouth, so niall tugs at shawn’s hair in retaliation, earns a low, surprised moan for his efforts. niall’s mind drifts back to shawn’s hands on him. he's imagined so many times how it would feel, for shawn to touch him like this, but the real thing is so, _so_ much better. feeling the wide splay of shawn’s fingers, the heat of shawn’s palms, it’s too easy now to think of those hands on niall’s hips, or gripping niall’s ass, spreading him open for shawn’s tongue or cock. niall shudders above shawn and presses his hips forward so shawn can feel how hard he is and decide to do something about it or not, but a sharp pain shoots through his knee and he flinches, jerks back from the kiss with a hiss.

“shit! your knee,” shawn says, concern evident even in his breathless state.

“it’s nothing,” niall says, but he's still cringing and shifting his weight off the offending knee, and shawn huffs out a laugh.

“it’s not nothing,” he says, pressing his fingertips hard into the skin of niall’s back for just a moment. niall gasps and sees a flash of a smirk on shawn’s face, gone again in an instant, like shawn is afraid of pushing this forward. he clears his throat but doesn't move his hands. “i only want your brain to associate good feelings with making out with me, okay? not the residual pain from a knee injury that won't totally heal.” niall rolls his eyes and sighs.

“well, that’s completely reasonable of you,” he says, tone full of feigned reluctance that makes shawn laugh. the sound makes niall grin before he bites his lip. “d’you want to stop then?” shawn blinks up at him.

“do _you_?” he asks. niall glances at shawn’s mouth, red and bitten now, and further down at the bulge in shawn’s jeans. he thinks about all the gorgeous space on shawn between those two points, about leaving love bites on shawn’s neck, about dragging his fingernails down shawn’s chest, about kissing his way down the soft dark hair under shawn’s navel. he look up again, into shawn’s unsure eyes.

“definitely not,” niall says with a single shake of his head. the cloud of uncertainty clears from shawn’s eyes.

“i don't either,” he says, the corners of his mouth curving upward. “bedroom?”

“mine,” niall agrees. it feels all wrong to pull back from shawn but niall manages it somehow anyway, uncoordinated though he is as he gets to his feet and reaches for shawn’s hand. shawn takes his and stands, then intertwines their fingers as niall leads the way to his room.

it nearly stops niall in his tracks, shawn holding his hand. he never thought of it very much, when he imagined all this, but now he has no idea why. holding hands has always been his favorite thing and he's rarely ever gotten it. so many of his relationships or whatever have sped blindly toward sex or careened awkwardly toward a quick end. but this...this has no end in sight. shawn is holding niall’s hand and they're stepping into niall’s bedroom and niall doesn't have to let go unless he wants to, and he doesn't ever want to.

niall turns when he reaches the foot of his bed, still holding shawn’s hand, and kisses him just for the thrill of being able to now. shawn grips niall’s hand tightly, wraps his free arm low around niall’s back, bringing him closer as niall cups his hand around the back of shawn’s neck. he revels in the feeling of the soft short hairs at the nape of shawn’s neck. he mouths at shawn’s jaw, listens to shawn’s surprised gasping, and kisses down his neck, darts his tongue out to feel shawn’s quickening pulse. he's not actively trying to make shawn want him more deeply anymore; he's just operating on instinct and sincerity.

the thing is: it seems to be working in his favor anyway.

“ _god_ ,” shawn mutters. then, louder, his throat vibrating under niall’s mouth, “can i--please tell me i can--i want to touch you.” niall hums against shawn’s skin, and at their sides, shawn’s hand grasps tighter at niall’s.

“touch me how?” niall asks absentmindedly, mostly to be a little annoying, to draw out what shawn wants, to enable honest communication. but also, he's curious. he presses an open-mouthed kiss to shawn’s collarbone.

shawn lets out a frustrated groan and says, “your dick--i want to jerk you off.” niall gasps, his teeth grazing the skin low on shawn’s neck. shawn’s breath hitches, and the last remaining part of niall’s brain that's functioning files that response away to be used against shawn later. it’s a tiny part of niall’s brain, though. the rest just sort of falls apart.

“yes, _yes_ ,” niall says breathlessly. his knees buckle, which makes his descent to the bed about as clumsy as it’s ever been. but shawn doesn't even tease him about it, just follows him down as niall shuffles further up the bed toward the pillows, and in moments shawn is above him, hands bracketing niall’s shoulders, knees on either side of niall’s hips. shawn’s so _tall_ and his shoulders are broader than niall’s and he's blushing and he's wearing too many clothes and niall is so pathetically overwhelmed until shawn dips his head and kisses niall softly, a featherlight touch, a gentle lick at niall’s own tongue, a barely-there tug of teeth at niall’s bottom lip.

“i’ve never done this - or, anything - with a guy,” shawn whispers, closing his eyes like he's embarrassed at his inexperience. “sorry. god, that makes me sound so young.”

“you _are_ so young,” niall says. shawn smiles.

“you're not exactly ancient,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “but, the point is - i know you’ve done this before, and i don't want to do anything wrong, or anything you don't like, so you're, um, you're gonna have to like, guide me here.” niall closes his eyes this time, heat rising to his face, every sweet and filthy fantasy he's had while lying in this very bed swimming in his mind.

“can't believe you're saying that to me,” he says. he opens his eyes to see shawn blushing a deeper red even as a smirk forms on his face and his eyes gleam with mischief. god help him, but niall wants to mess shawn up, make him lose control, see him in a way no one else ever has.

“why, ‘cause i’m so innocent?” shawn asks, but his voice shakes, like he's trying on a character, trying to be sexier and more confident than he truly feels. niall frowns at it, and shawn rolls his eyes in the way that niall knows by now isn’t directed at him, but at shawn himself. “sorry,” shawn says. “i’m nervous. as usual.”

“well, as usual, i’m gonna get you through it, yeah?” niall says. shawn smiles and nods. niall licks his lips. “alright, i’m gonna guide you through this one, and we can discuss my depraved fantasies about you some other time, and yours, too, if you have any.”

“if i have any--” shawn repeats, and then laughs, hanging his head for a moment like it’s too much for him. when he looks back up, he's biting his lip. “you really have no idea how much i’ve thought about this, do you?” niall swallows, intrigued by the sudden realization that shawn has evidently been doing the same thing he has.

“show me,” he says gruffly. “let me see how you get yourself off.” shawn’s arms tremble and his eyes go wide and round, and niall feels a pang of regret that he’s asked too much of shawn, is about to take back the request when he finally speaks.

“ _fuck_ ,” shawn whispers, then, “yeah, yeah, i can do that, i can show you.” he pushes himself up, sits back on his heels, blinks down at niall as he unbuckles his belt. with his legs spread over niall, he can only shove his jeans down his thighs so far. it looks uncomfortable to niall, but shawn doesn't seem bothered, and anyway niall gets distracted by the outline of shawn’s hard cock hidden by the dark gray cotton of his boxer briefs, by the small wet patch high near the waistband. niall wants to press his mouth to the material, to trace shawn’s cock with his tongue, to taste him.

slowly, and with hands so steady that niall can tell it’s requiring effort not to shake, shawn pushes his boxer briefs down a little and slips his hand inside. niall sees shawn’s knuckles moving under the fabric, watches shawn give himself two or three cursory strokes before shoving his underwear down further. niall's mouth waters and he barely manages to bite back a groan at the sight of shawn’s cock, hard and long and thicker than niall imagined.

“you’re not disappointed, are you?” shawn asks, a nervous smile playing on his lips. it takes a few seconds for niall to take his eyes off shawn’s dick and realize that shawn’s actually not totally joking. he blinks up at shawn in confusion.

“disappointed with your cock?” he says dubiously. “how could i _ever_ be disappointed?” he looks back down and reaches forward, but shawn grabs his wrist before he can touch. when he looks up again, shawn is biting his lip and breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes closed.

“please don’t. not yet. the second you touch my dick, i’m gonna--” shawn takes another slow breath and opens his eyes to meet niall’s as he released niall’s wrist. “i’m trying to not seem like such a teenager. let me have a little dignity.” niall nods and rests his hand on shawn’s thigh instead.

“i get it,” he says. “no worries, man, seriously. and if you don’t want to--”

“i want to,” shawn says, cleared of his momentary panic. he’s smiling again, an edge to it this time, and niall has exactly two short seconds to think, _he knows he’s hot shit_ , before shawn spits in his own palm and takes his cock in his hand.

“ _oh_ ,” niall says, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. shawn keeps averting his gaze and then meeting niall’s eyes and then looking away again, like he can’t maintain his confidence, like he can’t quite believe this is really happening. niall squeezes hard at shawn’s thigh when he realizes that, even now, pretty and having a wank on display, all for niall, shawn is _blushing_.

“usually when i’m alone and doing this, i’m using actual lube, you know?” shawn says, unsure. “but there have been times when you’re just so--you’re so--” he pauses his movements, squeezes at the base of his cock for a few long moments. “you’re so _hot_ , niall. you have no fucking idea. except when you do! that’s even worse.”

“is it?” niall asks. he can’t really keep up with the conversation anymore. he can’t stop staring at the dusky pink head of shawn’s cock, at the beads of pre-come that have dripped onto shawn’s knuckles.

“yeah, it is!” shawn says, voice high and still breaking, like he’s offended niall would even question him. he starts stroking himself again, slower this time but steadier, finding a rhythm he likes. “i haven’t been able to watch videos of you performing ‘slow hands’ for _weeks_. so unfair because i love that song--”

“i think of you every time i sing it,” niall confesses, and shawn freezes again, looking down at niall with wide eyes.

“please don’t say that to me if it’s not true,” he says quietly. niall shakes his head.

“i’ve never lied to you, shawn,” he says. “it’s true. for months now, every time i sing it, i’m thinking about you.” shawn’s jaw tenses. he blinks rapidly, licking his lips, his gaze never wavering from niall’s eyes. niall thinks, _oh god, i’m in love with him_ , just as shawn releases his grip on his own cock, lets it slap wetly against his stomach.

“okay, i have to jerk you off right now or i’m going to die,” shawn says decisively. niall laughs breathlessly as he leans up to pull his shirt off over his head and tosses it aside. shawn glares at him, but the accompanying grin renders it less effective as an indication of anger. “you won’t be laughing once i’ve died and taken the mood with me.”

“i don’t think i’d be able to have sex with anyone else for the rest of my life if that happened,” niall says. his breath hitches as shawn expertly unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans with nimble fingers. shawn, his head still angled down to focus on his task, looks up at niall through his eyelashes.

“good,” he says lowly. niall’s mouth goes dry. shawn shifts his weight to allow more room to shove niall’s jeans down, and then he pauses and looks up at niall more fully. his expression has softened into something sheepish. “sorry. i don’t mean to sound too, like, possessive.”

“don’t apologize,” niall says, voice rough. “i like it.” shawn bites his lip, one corner of his mouth curling upward.

“really?” he asks. niall nods. 

“plus, i mean, just wait ‘til you hear some of the things i’ve been thinking about doing to you,” niall says, feeling the heat of a blush rising to his face and absolutely hating it. “i’ll be the one apologizing then.” shawn licks his lips, bites the bottom one again.

“somehow i doubt i’ll want you to apologize,” he says, his gaze once again lowering. niall’s black boxer briefs are exposed now, his jeans tugged down to mid-thigh, and shawn gently palms niall’s cock through the cotton, smiling sweetly when niall groans at shawn’s touch, his head falling back against the pillow.

“don’t tease, come on,” niall says. “let me have a little dignity, too.” shawn grins and slips his fingers under the waistband, pulls niall’s underwear down slowly. niall throws his arm over his eyes, overwhelmed at the intensity of shawn’s attention, all on him, on his cock.

“hey, hey,” shawn says softly, his hand suddenly on niall’s elbow. “we don't have to do this if you don't want--”

“i want to,” niall says, breathing deep and moving his arm away from his face. “i’m gonna guide you through it, yeah?”

“you sure you’re up for that, eh?” shawn asks, his fingertips tracing incoherent shapes down niall’s chest and stomach. niall nods.

“i guarantee you're not going to do anything wrong, shawn,” he says. “but just--touch me like you touch yourself. everything you like - i want that, too.” shawn licks his lips and nods, then looks down at his open palm.

“lube?” he asks. niall considers this for a moment. he has some, and well within reach, but it’s not what he wants this time. he lifts himself up on his elbows, holds shawn’s hand in place, and spits. shawn inhales sharply and niall lies back again.

“everything you like,” niall repeats encouragingly, and shawn nods once more. this time, he doesn't hesitate.

niall makes an embarrassing strangled sound at the first touch of shawn’s hand on his cock and arches up, throws his head back and bears his throat to shawn. he has a second to long for shawn’s mouth on his neck before all remaining clarity is stolen by shawn’s hand stroking him slowly, clumsily seeking out a rhythm. it reminds niall of how shawn writes songs. it makes his heart swell with affection.

“sorry,” shawn is saying, his movements scattered. “i’ll work it out in a minute--” niall looks up at him to see that he's blushing again. he reaches up to touch shawn’s jaw, and shawn turns toward his hand, leaning into his palm.

“it’s good, shawn,” he says. his voice sounds like it’s coming from a million miles away, even to himself. “you're so good.” shawn blushes a deeper shade of red but seems pleased with the praise, encouraged and calmed by it, and he suddenly locks into a rhythm that makes niall arch up again, thrusting into shawn’s fist.

“you are, too,” shawn says breathlessly. “you're so good. i want to make you feel so good.” niall nods frantically, his fingers twisting in the pillowcase above his head, and then vaguely hears shawn saying, “tell me what to do.” he swears under his breath, senses the functioning corner of his brain filing that away for later use as well, and reaches down, covers shawn’s hand with his own.

the thing is: shawn’s hands are bigger than his, shawn’s fingers are longer, and niall has to pause to catch his breath or else the thought of the size difference between them will actually kill him.

“do like this,” he says finally, guiding shawn’s hand up his shaft, pulling his foreskin over the head and twisting. shawn makes a small, delighted sound at the back of his throat at the amount of pre-come this maneuver rewards him with, and niall settles his hand on shawn’s thigh, lets shawn take over again. he trembles every time shawn twists his hand. he's always liked this taste of roughness but no one’s ever been able to do it for him exactly right, until now.

“you're a quick learner,” niall mumbles through labored breathing, and then immediately turns his head to try to hide the blush that rises to his face at his own words, at how they sound, at what they could imply. he hears shawn laughing softly and then feels a sudden wetness that isn't his on the head of his cock. he jerks his head back and looks down to see shawn blushing redder than niall’s ever seen, his head ducked down, and niall realizes that it was shawn’s spit. 

“it’s easier with lube but it’s not as fun, i don't think,” shawn says quietly, all in a rush, embarrassed and uncertain, and niall throws his head back again, eyes wrenched shut as he fists his hands in the comforter.

“oh fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” niall says. he feels too warm, dizzy. “you have to fucking _tell_ me next time you do that. i want to see you-- _fuck_ , shawn, i’m not--”

“let me see,” shawn says. “you’ve got your dignity still, niall, come on. come for me. let me see you.” niall grits his teeth, tries one last attempt at holding off, but he opens his eyes to see shawn looking back at him, and the reality of all this hits him, weakens him, and he comes with an entirely undignified groan, shuddering out shawn’s name like he has countless times alone. but shawn’s here this time, stroking niall through it slowly, watching intently as niall’s body tenses and relaxes. 

shawn stops moving his hand as soon as niall reaches toward his wrist, like he was just waiting for a signal, and niall drops his hand to his side again, tries to concentrate on steadying his breathing. he feels shawn swipe his fingertips through the mess of come on niall’s stomach and knows, just _knows_ , what he’ll see when he opens his eyes, but he does anyway because he has to, he _has_ to see--shawn licking at his fingers, sucking them into his mouth, eyes closed as if he’s savoring the taste. it punches a breath from niall’s lungs, and he turns his head again, twists his whole upper body to the side, grabs his pillow and presses his face into it, clenches his fists and tries to slow his heart rate, to quiet the surge of noise in his head, to focus on what he actually knows with his senses.

“hey, hey,” he hears shawn saying. he feels shawn’s hand gently touching his shoulder. he can’t see shawn leaning over him but he can smell the lingering citrusy scent of shawn’s shampoo, can feel shawn’s breath warm on his ear and shawn’s weight over his body, his thighs still pinned down by shawn’s. it grounds him, centers him, and in a few moments he’s able to open his eyes, to turn his head a little and see shawn looking worried. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” shawn says, “i shouldn’t have--i didn’t mean to push you--i’m sorry--”

“no, don’t--” niall says, turning back and sitting up, holding shawn’s face in his hands so shawn can look at him, can understand how much he means this. “i’m okay, shawn. i just got overwhelmed but i’m fine. i’m _great_ , actually, thanks to you. you didn’t do anything wrong. you were so, so good, i swear.” 

shawn takes a few deep breaths, circles niall’s wrists with his long fingers, and niall doesn’t move until shawn starts to smile, and then it’s only to lean forward and kiss him. niall tries to keep it marginally chaste at first, just wants to be sure that he’s calmed shawn’s anxiety, but he shifts his left hand back from shawn’s face to shawn’s hair and pulls a little without really intending to, and shawn whines into niall’s mouth. he practically crawls forward in response, like he’s desperate for more of that, but his range of motion is still limited by the jeans around his thighs. he makes a sound that’s close enough to a whimper that niall’s cock stirs again already, and niall doesn’t give himself any time to think twice before slipping his hands under shawn’s shirt, touching his stomach and chest, feeling shawn’s heart beating at a frenzied tempo. 

“we can stop if you want, but i’d like to--” niall starts, his mouth hardly even pulled away from shawn’s, but shawn interrupts.

“ _please_ don’t say ‘wank,’ oh my god,” he says. he only moves back another fraction, but niall can still see he’s rolling his eyes. “how can anyone take you guys seriously when you say that word?”

“you’re really gonna argue with me about slang when orgasms are on the line?” niall asks, trying hard not to laugh, and mostly failing. “i’m _asking_ if i can put my hand on your cock until you come - so can i?”

“yes, yes, absolutely,” shawn says, all issues with terminology evidently forgotten as he grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and pulls it off. the sudden emergence of a beautiful expanse of bare skin takes niall by surprise, especially the sight of his own hands there on that bare skin already, and he’s back to working only on instinct when he leans forward and mouths at the warm skin beneath his spread fingers, feels shawn’s heartbeat under his tongue. shawn inhales sharply, says, “niall, please--” and niall slides his hand down, wraps it loosely around shawn’s cock.

“i’ve got you,” niall says, stroking with a slow, steady pace. shawn tips forward some, rests his forehead on niall’s shoulder. niall would love to see shawn’s face, but he thinks shawn must be trying to control himself, not get too overwhelmed, and niall figures he can allow the lad that this time. there's all the time in the world to watch shawn lose control, after this, and for now it’s probably good that niall can't see shawn’s face, because it makes it easier to keep talking.

“i’m surprised you usually use lube,” niall says quietly, turning his head toward shawn’s neck as he looks down between them. “that's one of the best things about being uncut, you know. skin makes a smoother go of it, doesn't it?” shawn’s whine is soft and muffled, but niall hears it still, smiles at the sound. he presses a kiss to shawn’s neck before pausing his movements to press the tip of his thumb between the foreskin and the head of shawn’s cock, circling it slowly until shawn cries out.

“niall, _fuck_ ,” shawn says, mouth open and wet on niall’s shoulder. niall grins again, proud of himself, as he starts stroking again, faster this time. it’s been years since he spent any time with an uncut cock that wasn't his own - zayn was circumcised, but niall still remembers every trick he learned with harry, remembers teaching them to zayn later. he hopes he’ll get to teach shawn more about it, too.

“has anyone you’ve been with ever known what to do with your cock, shawn?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his tone that he honestly didn't mean to use. “i mean, has anyone _really_ known?” shawn’s entire body trembles against him. he takes that for a _no_ and wraps his unoccupied arm around to shawn’s back, rests his splayed hand on the center of shawn’s spine. “i can show you,” he says. “i’ll be so good for you, shawn. i’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

“you're what i’ve been missing,” shawn says. the words aren't muffled, and niall looks sidelong to see that shawn has turned his head to face niall. shawn’s face is flushed, his bottom lip swollen. niall gives him a small smile and shawn huffs out a tired little laugh.

“what’re you holding back for?” niall asks. he glances down between their bodies again, watches his hand work around shawn’s thick cock. “already told you i could never be disappointed with this particular part of you.” shawn laughs again.

“if i--” shawn starts, then stops, gasps at another one of niall’s tricks. “i’ll come all over you if i--and you don’t like--” niall understands, makes a soothing sound and moves his hand from shawn’s back to his hair, runs his fingers through it, tugging gently every few moments. shawn goes quiet even as he shakes harder.

“i don't mind a mess if it's related to sex,” niall says, kissing the soft skin below shawn’s ear. “especially sex with you, if i’m honest. _lots_ of my fantasies about you involve a mess. you’ll probably hate me when i tell--”

“no, no, i want it,” shawn mutters, grazing niall’s skin with his teeth. “i want you to get me messy. i want--i want--”

“then come for me now, yeah?” niall says. “don't hold back, love. show me.” shawn manages two more shaky exhales before letting out a long, low groan and burying his face against niall’s shoulder again. niall slides his hand to shawn’s back once more and holds him close, feels him tremble and tense as he looks down, mesmerized by the sight of shawn’s come coating his stomach and fist. he strokes shawn through it all until his body goes lax, stops when he feels shawn’s legs trembling again. he trails his fingertips through the come on his skin - his own and, now, shawn’s, which makes him feel dizzy again - and shawn suddenly takes niall by the wrist, lifts niall’s hand to his face, and licks niall’s fingers clean, sucking them into his red and bitten mouth.

“jesus,” niall says, flopping back onto the bed unceremoniously when shawn finally releases his hand. “you’re gonna kill me if you keep that shit up, i swear to god. i always knew you were a filthy bugger.” shawn laughs and ducks his head, blushing. “oh, _that_ makes you blush?! after all that?” niall says with a grin. “unbelievable!”

“i really did get you all--” shawn says, and makes some sort of frazzled gesture that niall thinks means _messy_. “do you want me to get a washcloth?”

“no need,” niall says. he sits up on his elbows and leans toward the edge of the bed, reaching for the middle drawer of his bedside table. he pulls out a washcloth and cleans his hand with it before tending to his stomach. shawn is above him still, watching him, a curious look in his eyes.

“you keep them right next to your bed?” he asks after niall finishes and tosses the cloth across the room to his laundry basket. there's a funny note to his tone. it takes niall a few seconds to realize that it’s something like jealousy. he looks up at shawn and smiles, hoping be looks reassuring.

“just a few,” he says. “and only because of you.” shawn raises his eyebrows. niall sighs. “i kept waking up hard ‘cause of you, and then i’d have a wank before i got out of bed, and once or twice i may have gotten, like, delirious afterward just from thinking about you, and long story short, i got come all over my pillowcase a couple times. washcloths within arm’s reach was the solution.” shawn laughs so hard that he tumbles off of niall, lands on his back at niall’s right side still giggling. niall can't even pretend to be angry.

“i know the plan was for you to stay for dinner,” niall says quietly, when shawn’s finally calmed down, “but i hope you’ll stay the night, too. i want you to stay the night.”

“of course i’ll stay,” shawn says. he looks down at himself and frowns, laughs, then pulls his boxer briefs up and tries to wriggle out of his jeans.

“surely there’s an easier way,” niall says, but he does the same thing, and after a minute of uncontrollable laughter, they both manage to kick their jeans off onto the floor. they lie back next to each other in comfortable silence for a few long moments, until niall’s brain starts working again, and he chews on his lip. “are we--i mean, do you want to be, like--” he rubs his hands over his face. “are we dating now?” beside him, shawn turns onto his side, facing niall. niall stares up at the ceiling.

“i want to,” shawn says. “i think we can make it work. i mean, i _really_ fucking like you so i want it to work. i want you to be my boyfriend.” niall bites back a giddy smile, but still doesn’t turn his head. “but if you don’t want--i know you’ve been told by exes and whatever that you’re not good at sharing space. i personally don’t think that’s true and like, if i was the fighting type i would fight them for making you believe something like that about yourself, but i also--i mean, you have your life pretty figured out, it seems like. i don’t want to be a stressor for you.” niall blinks. he turns his head to look at shawn.

“you’re not a stressor,” he says. “you’re the opposite of a stressor.” shawn smiles.

“i’m a coping mechanism?”

“yeah,” niall says, “and you’re a ritual.” shawn opens his mouth, and niall’s ready for a quip of some kind, but shawn just closes it again, gives niall this look that he can’t figure out. “it doesn’t take work to make room for you in my life, shawn,” niall says. “it’s effortless.” shawn looks into niall’s eyes, searching.

“it’s the same for me, you know, with you,” shawn says after a few seconds. “it’s like you’ve always been here.”

“i wrote songs about you, too, you know,” niall says. shawn’s eyes go wide, a corner of his mouth curling up.

“really?” he asks. niall nods.

“it’s funny, though. i didn’t realize they were about you until later,” niall says. “like, i kept wondering where those songs came from, and there’s even just a few lines that are scattered in other songs, and i didn’t know they were about you ‘til i started performing them.”

“which songs?” shawn asks, and niall sees an opportunity.

“i’ll tell you one if you tell me one,” he says. shawn grins.

“i’ll tell you the _name_ of one,” he says. niall makes a face, but relents anyway, because he wants shawn to know.

“since we’re alone, yeah, you can show me your heart,” niall sings softly.

“if you put it all in my hand, no, i swear, no, i won’t break it apart,” shawn finishes. “i love that one.”

“come on, you owe me a song title,” niall says, poking shawn’s arm. shawn’s smile devolves into a smug line, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“‘nervous,’” shawn says. niall makes a loud, frustrated noise.

“you haven’t played that one for me! the name tells me nothing!” he complains over shawn’s laughter. niall rolls his eyes and leans forward to kiss the happy corner of shawn’s mouth. “you’re a terrible boyfriend.”

the thing is: of course, shawn’s a great boyfriend.

it’s exactly like it was before - niall doesn't know why he worried it might change things for the worse - except now their texts and phone calls are a little sweeter, a little dirtier, make niall smile so hard his face hurts. now he gets to kiss shawn every time they're together instead of trying not to stare at his mouth too long. now he gets to lay shawn out on his bed, on shawn’s bed, on hotel beds, and take shawn apart until shawn begs.

and shawn _begs_ , which is something niall wanted and hoped but not something he ever expected. shawn is so easy for him that it makes niall feel actually wild. shawn brings out something almost feral in him, something he buried years ago before he ever really got to know it. but shawn _wants_ it, wants his hair pulled and his skin marked up by scratches and bites when his schedule allows it, and even when it doesn't. niall gives into it with some caution, the same way he does everything else, but soon he’s comfortable enough with it that he doesn't have to throw his phone across the room after sending filthy texts during shawn’s latest photoshoot, or hide his face in embarrassment after he tells shawn how good he looks on his knees.

and shawn looks _really_ good on his knees, looking up at niall with wide eyes, blinking slowly and licking his lips. when niall, ready to play it off as a joke if the reaction isn’t positive, nervously asks shawn if he can come on his face, shawn actually closes his eyes, bites his lip, and groans, like he thought niall would never ask. he sucks niall’s cock enthusiastically, keeps his eyes open and on niall’s face the whole time, and when niall’s thighs tense he pulls off, licks his swollen lips again and closes his eyes and mouth, tips up his face and waits. the sight is enough to make niall go light-headed, and he strokes himself twice before he comes. shawn flinches slightly at the first contact, and then instantly relaxes, moves closer. the moment some lands in his hair, he whimpers and purses his lips like he’s struggling not to open his mouth and taste, darts his hand down to his own cock and wraps his fingers tight around the base like he’s trying not to come himself. by the time niall finishes, breathless and drained, shawn’s sighing contentedly as his eyes flutter open, tiny drops of come on his eyelashes.

“oh my god,” niall whispers. “oh my god, oh my god.” he drops carefully to his own knees and gets one hand in shawn’s hair, holds shawn’s head up to really look at the mess he’s made of his boyfriend. shawn is blushing now under the scrutiny, not meeting niall’s eyes, but then niall says, “unbelievable. you’re so fucking gorgeous, shawn,” and shawn smiles, darts his tongue out to lick at the come around his mouth. niall pulls at shawn’s hair, forcing his head to tip back more to expose the long beautiful line of shawn’s neck. there’s a trail of come there that starts at shawn’s chin, out of reach of shawn’s tongue, and niall leans in to lick it up himself. shawn makes a strangled sort of noise at that, his throat vibrating under niall’s wide tongue as niall follows the trail up to shawn’s chin. niall takes in the hungry look in shawn’s eyes before kissing him, tugging at shawn’s bottom lip with his teeth before moving to lick his own come from high on shawn’s cheek next, then above his eyebrow, across his jaw, dripping down the side of his nose from beside the inner corner of his eye. he keeps kissing shawn between each one, slipping his tongue into shawn’s shaking mouth, feeding shawn his come, and shawn’s breathing gets more erratic every time, his fist moving faster and faster on his own cock. he comes when niall pulls him close, hands on both sides of shawn’s face, presses a soft kiss to shawn’s eyelid and says, “sorry to say this after jizzing all over your pretty face, but i swear to god, i fucking love you.”

they're not in the same city when “lost in japan” drops. niall listens to it for the first time along with everyone else in the world and can't stop grinning and blushing in his seat on the plane. the details are obscured, and no one else on earth would be able to guess, but this song is unmistakably about him. he recognizes, word for word, texts that he and shawn exchanged before they even got together, phrases that remain in their twitter DM history. hell, shawn _still_ fucking calls him and asks, “do you got plans tonight?” when he’s angling for facetime sex.

“i was hoping i could get lost in your paradise,” niall types out and sends to shawn before closing his eyes and falling asleep. when the plane lands, he’s got a response from shawn that makes him draw blood in a misguided effort to bite back his emphatic grin.

“the only thing i’m thinkin bout is you and i x”

liam used to say that he missed - well, danielle first, then sophia - so much it felt like an ache. niall never understood it, missing someone like that. he felt it for mullingar, kind of, for the whole of ireland, but never for a person. he eventually sort of figured it was like, mostly a sexual thing, that liam was just hard up for it, even though liam tried to tell him it was more than that. “you’ll get it when you fall in love, nialler,” liam said, more than once, and every time the condescension, well-meaning as it was, made niall roll his eyes and get a headache. so it’s with a heavy, aching heart one day alone in new york, with shawn asleep halfway across the world, that he realizes and acknowledges the highly improbable.

“you were right x,” niall sends to liam. 

“cool, bout what?” liam replies almost immediately. niall doesn’t answer. he leaves the phone on his bed and walks across the room, sits in a chair by the window and looks out at the city, missing shawn. 

“bout what mate??” liam sends ten minutes later. niall hums a new melody to himself, scribbles some words on hotel stationery, obscuring the details just like shawn does.

“?????” liam sends after another twenty minutes have passed. niall doesn’t hear his phone buzzing over the sound of his guitar. he never gets around to answering. 

days later, shawn is there with him, the universe suddenly righted, and after an afternoon of music and lazy kissing and diffused sunlight, shawn throws the curtains open and looks out on the city at nighttime. watching from the bed, nearly naked and with one hand in his boxer briefs slowly stroking his cock, niall can tell by the way shawn’s shoulders set, by the languid way he moves his neck, that shawn’s gotten the kind of idea that will be the death of niall one day. shawn only gets like this with the darker cravings, the ones that could get them in trouble if each of them weren't still so careful. shawn turns and drags his gaze over niall’s body, gives him a slow, promising smile, and jerks his head toward the window.

“come here,” shawn says, and niall does, stands besides shawn in front of the thick glass and narrows his eyes to try to discern reflection from reality, what lights are just them and what lights belong to the city. mostly he ends up looking at what he can map out of shawn’s face in the glass, the gleams that are his eyes, the faint lines that form his jaw if niall squints. there's a song to tease out of this, but before niall can even glance around in search of his phone so he can save a note to come back to later, shawn pulls niall close to him, kisses his temple, and says, “i wanna blow you.”

“alright,” niall says, nodding eagerly. he turns toward shawn and stands up on his toes, slips his hand around the back of shawn’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. he takes shawn’s hand when he breaks the kiss and moves away, back toward the bed, but shawn stays put, even pulls niall back to the window. niall raises his eyebrows. “what, you wanna do it _here_?” shawn bites his lip and drops to his knees, his back to the wall. he looks up at niall, whose mouth has suddenly gone dry.

“make me take it, eh?” he says. it's a request, not a demand. niall knows he can say no, has done before - they both have - but shawn’s practically naked already, his pale skin dimly illuminated only by the faint blue glow of the muted TV across the otherwise dark room, and still niall can see shawn’s cheeks go red at his own question. niall palms his cock through his underwear, earning a disappointed sound from shawn, who shifts backward, closer to the wall. when he straightens his spine, holds his shoulders back, and presses the back of his head all the way to the wall behind him, he barely fits under the windowsill. “i can take it like this, remember?” he says, licking his lips. “fuck my face like this, come on, make me choke on your dick.”

“last time your voice was shot for two days,” niall says, trying not to sound too proud of himself. “you have a show tomorrow.”

“yeah, and the same thing will happen this time,” shawn says slowly, looking up at niall with wide eyes sparkling with feigned innocence. “and tomorrow my voice will be all rough, and you’ll be the only one in the whole stadium who knows why.”

 _oh_ , niall thinks, heat pooling low in his belly. 

the thing is: it's easy to imagine exactly how the next twenty-four hours will go.

he’ll give shawn what he wants, crowd shawn against the wall, fuck shawn’s pretty mouth until shawn gags. he’ll pull out and shawn will beg him not to stop, so the next time his cock hits the back of shawn’s throat, he won't. he’ll pull shawn’s hair hard, make his eyes water, make shawn come in his boxer briefs just from this. he’ll hold shawn’s head in place when he comes down shawn’s throat, and when he finally pulls out shawn will be sputtering, his chin and chest horribly messy with his own saliva. he’ll tug on shawn’s hair again and say, “want me to fuck you?” and shawn will whine for it, beg him to be rough, and he will be. he’ll have shawn on his hands and knees, taking him from behind, fingers still pulling at shawn’s hair, and the sound of shawn’s scratchy voice groaning out his name will send him over the edge. he’ll fall asleep in shawn’s arms, grateful and safe.

then tomorrow he’ll watch shawn perform a full show with his voice still raspy and rough. he’ll know how much the fans love it, that they think it's sexy, and he’ll know that shawn’s all his. he’ll be hard the whole damn time. he’ll corner shawn in the dressing room immediately after the encore, will fall to his own knees on a little pillow that shawn more or less requires him to use now for the sake of his bum knee, and he’ll pull shawn’s jeans and underwear down and suck shawn’s gorgeous cock. he’ll revel in the scent of shawn’s sweat, in shawn’s hand in his hair, in shawn stuttering out filthy words above him in a raw voice. he’ll try to take shawn all the way to the base like he’s been practicing but he’ll fail, and shawn will pet his hair to soothe him when he looks up apologetically. he’ll swallow most of shawn’s come but let he’ll let some pool on his tongue, open his mouth so shawn can see, before tipping his head back and swallowing the rest.

shawn will make him stay hard and untouched until they escape out to the car waiting outside. shawn will immediately scramble to put up the divider between them and the driver. shawn will put his hand down niall’s jeans and stroke him. shawn will lean in so his mouth is close to niall’s ear and whisper, “thank you,” and niall will come all over his hand. shawn will raise his hand to his mouth and lick it clean, and when niall watches his tongue brush languidly over the swallow tattoo, niall will double over and put his head in his hands, shudder out a breath as shawn’s other hand rests comfortingly on his back. shawn will ask niall to fuck him again back at the hotel, and niall will get shawn’s ankles up on his shoulders and give him what he wants.

niall steps out of his boxer briefs now, takes a few steps forward until he’s so close that shawn could stretch out his tongue and lick niall’s cock if he wanted. he obviously does want, but he doesn't, keeps his mouth closed because he knows by now that niall likes rubbing the wet head of his cock over shawn’s lips, spreading pre-come there and making shawn tremble.

“open your mouth,” niall says. shawn does, sticking his tongue out a little like an invitation, a welcome mat, a red carpet. niall slowly slides his cock inside the wet heat of shawn’s mouth. with his fingers in shawn’s hair, he holds shawn’s head in place against the wall and thrusts shallowly. shawn gets greedy like this, when he almost gets what he wants but not quite, and he keeps fighting against the hand in his hair, but niall places his other one there as well, holding him back with a firm grip, and shawn stills, waiting, knowing what’s about to happen, whenever niall wants. without warning, niall thrusts deeper, deeper, until the muscles in his thighs strain and shawn’s throat closes around the head of niall’s cock. an ugly sound, a shake in shawn’s shoulders, and niall pulls out for shawn to cough and catch his breath.

“again,” shawn says, voice already rough around its edges, “more. don't stop, please don't stop.” niall pulls shawn forward by his hair this time, shawn’s mouth open wide. shawn swallows around his cock again, gags again, and keeps sucking him every time he pulls back to thrust in again.

“that's it,” niall says. his own voice still sounds distant and unfamiliar when he talks like this. “choke on it, love.” shawn whimpers, rolls his eyes back as he closes them, tears gathering at the corners, and everything goes exactly the way niall expected. the following night, after sex and a shower, before catching separate flights in just a few hours, shawn is stretched out on the bed with niall’s head resting on his chest, running his fingers through niall’s damp hair.

“i don’t want to leave. i hate being so far away from you,” shawn says quietly. it’s barely audible over the rain beating on the window. niall hums, traces letters over shawn’s skin.

“we knew it would be hard,” niall says kindly, not unlike the last time they had this conversation, when it was niall being pathetic on the phone and shawn being a voice of reason from a thousand miles away. it's happened a few times each way now, and this is what they always say to one another: _we knew it would be hard._ a reminder, a hitting pause before the mood gets too sad. an unspoken question attached at the end: _is it still worth it to you?_

“yeah,” shawn says. _yeah, it’s still worth it._ “don’t let the tide come and wash us away,” he sings absently. niall grins, rubs his face against shawn’s chest.

“don’t give up and don’t let me,” niall mumbles tunelessly. he’s been trying to stay awake, to take advantage of the few hours they have left together, but his eyelids are heavy, and shawn is so warm and comfortable.

“go to sleep, babe,” shawn says, kissing the top of niall’s head. “i’ll still be here when you wake up.”

the thing is: it’s not always like this. 

niall still gets touch-averse sometimes. he can never predict when it will happen, and sometimes it doesn’t even seem to apply to shawn, but other times shawn will come over, or he’ll go to shawn’s, or they’ll meet at a hotel, and niall...can’t be physically affectionate. he’s always had this thing. it always comes and goes but niall hoped it would go forever, now that he’s with shawn, but falling in love doesn’t change the fiber of a person, he’s learned. shawn doesn’t fight it, doesn’t need an explanation or apology, doesn’t push. he keeps his distance, asks specifics about the boundary lines, respects niall’s space. niall loves him.

niall loves him and that’s what makes him feel so bad when he gets like this. this has made people leave him before, or at least been a major contributing factor in more than a few breakups, and the thought of it driving shawn away makes him feel sick. they spend two nights and days together in los angeles to celebrate shawn’s birthday and niall can’t stand to be touched the whole time and after shawn leaves for the airport, niall has a panic attack alone. he knows shawn’s in the air by the time he’s calmed down, but he calls anyway because he has something to say and he has to say it right now.

“i’m sorry if i’m not enough for you,” he says, clutching his own phone so hard he feels like he could crush it in his hand. his eyes sting. “i know it’s hard already, the distance and the schedule and everything. i know i just make it worse when i get, like--whatever i am. if you ever want to, you know, leave--i get it. i’m sorry. i know you say you don’t care, but i just. i feel like i’m not enough.”

“niall, no,” shawn says softly. it’s easy for niall to imagine shawn turning toward the window in his seat, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to hide himself, covering the phone with his hand so niall can hear him clearly. “listen to me, okay? you’re more than enough for me. you’re _everything_ , niall, and there’s nothing wrong with you. look, all the people who ever told you this shit, and made you feel bad for having boundaries about your own body and time - they were making excuses for their own bullshit, okay? they were trying to claim space that belonged to you because they felt entitled to it. they wanted to take parts from you because they thought they deserved it and when you wouldn’t let them, they wanted you to feel guilty for pushing back against this stupid culture of romance that devalues communication and independence.” shawn sighs into the phone, and even through niall’s anxiety and heartache, the sound makes him smile.

“i love all of you,” shawn says, “but i only want the parts of you that you want to give me. i’m not interested in taking what isn’t mine, especially not at the expense of your comfort, you know? and i’m _better_ for you having boundaries, niall. i don’t feel like i’m compromising or missing out on anything just because occasionally you don’t want to be touched. i love you even when you don’t like yourself, okay? you’re everything for me, man. like, you’re _it_. so please, please don’t think you’re pushing me away by drawing lines around yourself sometimes. i _love_ you.” niall swallows, rubs at his eyes.

“alright,” he says, for lack of anything better, and shawn’s laugh dances in his ear. “i love you, too, shawn. sorry for--all this, making you talk me down and shit.” shawn laughs again.

“pretty sure i owe you like, half a dozen more from before we even started dating,” he says. “i didn’t really keep count of how many times you saved my day.”

“you know the deal. i get to pick the movie next time then,” niall says.

“you got it, babe.”

the thing is: niall’s life has never really felt easier, calmer, more secure.

he gets a voicemail from zayn on his birthday because niall sent the call straight there, and then, after texting zayn two days later to thank him for the birthday wishes, zayn replies with the same sort of text zayn sends him every couple of months.

“i miss you, nialler. are you in LA? id love to see you sometime soon x”

niall blinks down at it, weighing his options. he’s ignored this text a few times before without any negative consequences - zayn knows there’s a tightrope between them still, never pushes. zayn is one of the precious few people from niall’s past who appreciated his boundaries, and now, niall figures that’s because zayn had so many of his own, even if they weren’t totally visible to everyone the way they all assumed they were. niall bites his lip and glances over at shawn lacing up his trainers on the other side of the couch.

“‘s’it okay if i invite zayn over for dinner tonight?” niall asks. shawn looks over and shrugs, a cautious smile playing on his lips.

“of course,” he says, but his tone says, _but only if you truly want to_. niall nods and looks back down at his phone.

“miss you, zayn ! how bout dinner tonight at mine? my friend shawn will be there too x,” he sends. 

“shawn mendes?” zayn replies an hour later, and then, “6 ok?” and then, another two hours after niall agrees, a smiley face wearing sunglasses. niall snorts. in a different world or not, zayn is still so much the same as he’s always been.

zayn shows up at 6:45, mumbling apologies for being late, laughing when niall says not to worry, he knew zayn would be late, didn’t start cooking until ten minutes ago. he shakes hands with shawn and sits next to him at the bar by the kitchen. niall listens to shawn and zayn talk, about each other’s music, about their own, about zayn’s favorite art supplies shop in toronto, about shawn’s favorite restaurant in west yorkshire. niall keeps an ear out for any potential trouble, any tension in zayn’s voice, any edge in shawn’s, but mostly he just cooks, and he ends up not having needed to worry anyway. zayn and shawn get along just fine, and by the time dinner is being served in the dining room, they’re exchanging numbers and tattoo artist recommendations.

shawn and niall don’t touch throughout the evening, don’t say anything to or about each other that could lend to zayn learning that they’re together. it doesn’t take too much of an effort - they’re used to this kind of caution around other people, have always preferred _too careful_ to _not careful enough_ \- but it does feel odd behaving this way at niall’s home, where they haven’t had to be careful in months. they get through dinner, and zayn mentions that his guitar skills have really improved since the last time niall heard him play, so the three of them end up taking turns playing music they’ve each been working on. it’s almost midnight by the time zayn leaves, and niall stands with him by the door and asks four times if zayn would rather him call a car for him, but zayn says, “i can drive now, nialler, it's chill,” and then, “you leaving too, shawn?”

“not yet,” shawn says without missing a beat. “we're working on a song together, actually. i just want to stay long enough to get the bridge melody down.”

“cool,” zayn says, twirling his key ring around his fingers. “good meeting you then, mate. ‘m sure i’ll see you around, yeah?”

“yeah, man,” shawn says with a grin. “i’ll see you around.”

“c’mon, zayn, i’ll walk you out,” niall says, opening the door. he shivers violently the moment he closes the door behind them. “jesus,” he mutters as they walk toward zayn’s car.

“hmm?” says zayn.

“i just always forget how fucking cold it gets here once the sun goes down,” niall says. zayn clicks his tongue.

“should keep a jacket by the door, babes,” he says. niall huffs out a laugh. two dozen different hairstyles since he left the band and zayn is still so much the same.

“nice car,” he says as they approach it. zayn shrugs.

“‘s’alright, like,” he says. he opens the driver’s side door and leans down to toss his bag in the backseat, then stands again, still twirling the key ring in his hand. “how long’ve you and shawn been together?”

he’s not even looking directly at niall when he asks, which niall hates. if zayn wasn't ducking his head then niall would be able to read the intent behind the question. that kind of thing could never be determined from zayn’s tone alone. it used to drive louis absolutely mad, at the very beginning of everything, before they all forged their own keys for reading one another. niall thinks his key to zayn is probably damaged, but he's still reasonably certain he could figure something like this out if only zayn was looking at him.

instead, niall’s stuck with a spike of anxiety and a heavy tongue. he opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and finally zayn looks up, looks at him, and niall sees genuine curiosity there, honesty, trust. he says the only thing that comes to his mind.

“are we that obvious?” he asks. zayn shakes his head.

“not at all, like. i just know you still,” he says. immediately, lines creep around his eyes like he regrets his words. he looks down at his shoes, back up at niall, says, “sorry. i know that bothers you,” then looks down again. niall blinks, considers things.

it’s true. niall doesn’t like that he knew zayn once and doesn't now, not really, not fully, but it’s the other way around that really gets to him. zayn knew him once too, but zayn knows him still. on his worst days, he _hates_ it, and hates what that turns him into, but it’s been awhile now since it finally simmered into old-fashioned resentment. on his good days, the kinds of days when he answers zayn’s texts, it doesn't even irk him at all.

“not so much today,” niall says. zayn lifts his gaze again, a cautious look in his eyes. niall chews on his bottom lip. “six months last week. actually got to spend it together, too.” the corner of zayn’s mouth twitches, a spark of comfort and happiness.

“that's always good,” he says. “are you proper dating, like, or is it a sex thing?” _is it like it was with you and me, or is it substantial?_ niall hears. either way, the answer is the same.

“no, we’re doing the thing proper,” niall says. “he’s my boyfriend.” zayn smiles at that, open and pleased, so that niall sees his teeth even in the darkness.

“any of the other lads know yet?” zayn asks. niall takes a second to answer, to get another reading on zayn. it's still just genuine curiosity.

“no,” he says. he still doesn't know if he should feel bad about that. zayn nods. zayn’s always done this thing where he nods not just with his head but with his whole neck, sometimes his shoulders, too. the sight right now almost makes niall laugh. zayn is still so much the same.

“well, you don't have to worry about me telling them,” zayn says lightly, which does make niall laugh, which makes zayn laugh, too, because it’s just about the most optimistic spin on the fact that harry and louis still aren't speaking to him, that liam is living an entirely different life.

“he makes you happy, yeah?” zayn says then, softer than before. niall doesn't have to think twice.

“yeah,” he says. “happier than i’ve ever been, i think, which you know is saying something.” zayn nods again, head and neck and shoulders.

“good,” he says. “you’ve always deserved to be loved like that, nialler. he seems good for you.”

“he is,” niall says.

“seems the type to be bad at golf, though,” zayn says in the familiar tones of his particular brand of deadpan humor. “don't see how your relationship can survive.” niall grins.

“he’s utterly abysmal,” he says. “you should come with us one day. he might even be worse than you.” zayn laughs and shakes his head.

“a rare man, indeed.”

zayn and niall exchange their by now customary _i’m usually in LA or new york, give me a call if you want to chill, i miss you_ goodbyes and a fierce hug that nearly breaks their bones before niall waves, watching as zayn drives away with the air of someone who wants to speed but is afraid to. when niall walks back up the driveway, he catches sight of shawn darting away from the window by the door. niall is laughing as he walks inside.

“alright, weirdo?” he says to shawn, who is now sitting in the living room, perched stiffly on the couch, looking too innocent. shawn makes a face at him.

“i just wanted to see how a niall-and-zayn goodbye goes down these days,” he says. niall flops down on the couch beside him, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.

“he figured us out,” he says. shawn gives him a sharp look, but niall just shrugs. “should’ve known he would. no amount of spray paint fumes and direct sunlight could make him less observant.”

“it’s okay though?” shawn asks. niall nods.

“if anybody can keep secrets, it’s zayn,” he says. after a moment, he looks over at shawn, a slow smile forming from the worry lines on his face. “hey, i love you,” he says. shawn’s whole body instantly relaxes. he grins.

“hey, i love you, too,” he says.

“can i ride you tonight?” niall says casually. shawn blinks, jerks his head back. niall’s smile turns mischievous. “i think i can take it all this time. i’ve been practicing.”

“so i’ve been told,” shawn says, licking his lips. “can i watch you use that before you use me? i know we have the _no sex pics_ rule for a good reason but fuck, i want to see.” niall bites his lip and scrunches his face. the idea of shawn watching him fuck himself open on a dildo the size of shawn’s thick cock makes his face heat up with embarrassment, but shawn looks so eager that he finds he doesn't mind.

“yeah,” he says, nodding. “yeah, yeah, we can do that.” he stands and pulls at shawn’s hand, though shawn remains stubbornly seated.

“can you hold my hands down when you ride me, too?” shawn asks, eyes dark with want as he looks up at niall.

“yeah,” niall repeats, his own eyes wide at the thought. “yeah, absolutely i can do that.” shawn smiles and lets himself be pulled up off the couch and guided into niall’s - their - bedroom.

the thing is: niall’s never been the type to try to sew the disparate threads of his life together.

god or luck or whatever was always better with a needle anyway.


End file.
